


The Widow's Secret

by ejdvdsn



Series: Super Spies, Man [2]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Natasha Needs a Hug, Natasha-centric, One Shot, POV Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Civil War (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejdvdsn/pseuds/ejdvdsn
Summary: “I haven’t told anyone this before, but I’m going to tell you now.” She gestured towards the cowering figure with the metal cylinder in her hand, the sun streaming through the open curtains made him squint as he tried to look up at her, eyes wide with fear. “And I’m only telling you because you won’t be able to tell anyone else."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot happens during Chapters 5-9 of The Weak Link.  
> You don't have to have read The Weak Link to read this, but my characterization of Nat is specific to that story.
> 
> The final chapter and epilogue of The Weak Link is on its way I promise.  
> In the meantime, this is one of the scenes that didn't make it through the original edit.
> 
> Un-beta'd so any and all mistakes are mine.

“I haven’t told anyone this before, but I’m going to tell you now.” She gestured towards the cowering figure with the metal cylinder in her hand, the sun streaming through the open curtains made him squint as he tried to look up at her, eyes wide with fear. “And I’m only telling you because you won’t be able to tell anyone else.”

Her voice remained level and conversational as she continued to pull parts out of the duffle bag at her feet. “I’ve made a lot of choices in my life. I’m not proud of many of them, but I’m not ashamed either. At least, not all of the time.” She leant back slightly in the wooden desk chair and inspected the piece of metal in her hand. “I’d like to think that, with the information available at the time, I made the best choices that I could. I have nothing to apologise for.”

She chuckled darkly, “Although there are many people who may disagree with that assertion. But I learned a long time ago that a settled opinion is fatal. Everything changes and is in perpetual motion…” She spun a cylinder with the palm of her hand until it tightened in place. She looked through the cylinder as she spoke. “… and to remain stationary is to put a crosshair on your back.”

She placed everything on the floor carefully and crossed the room. Her boots making no sound on the wooden floor. She turned her back to the man sat on the floor watching her every movement and began pulling everything off of the desk in front of her. She methodically placed the lamp and telephone on the floor and dragged the table into the middle of the room, lining it up with the window.

She picked up the duffle bag and placed it in the middle of the desk and began to rifle through it. Without looking over at him, she continued her one-sided conversation. “So I’ve made the best of the cards that I’ve been dealt in this dirty, shitty game. I learned to read the other players and change the game to my advantage.” A small flicker of a smile flitted across her face. “I have won more than my fair share of hands. I’ve gotten good, really good. Some may even say that I am the best.”

She pulled the scope out of the bag and bent down to pick up the sniper rifle. She attached the scope and snapped out the legs of the rifle. She pulled the chair around and sat at the desk, the rifle against her chest and the scope to her eye. A few moments of silence passed in the room, broken only by the sound of the odd car driving up the street and the muffled voices of the television playing in a room on the floor below.

The man tried to shift position stealthily but the electrified cuffs around his wrists and ankles glowed blue and sent a surge of pain through his bones. He winced pathetically and slumped back against the wall. She just tutted at him and continued to stare through the scope. “People like me? We play the hands that no-one else would dare. The ones that no-one else can win. We play when everyone else folds. Either because the blood is too rich for them, or because they don’t like who they’d be if they did play to win.”

She took a breath in and just before the exhale, in-between heartbeats, she calmly pulled the trigger. The pop reverberated around the hotel room. A small, perfect circle in the window pane with hairline fractures radiating from it, the only evidence of the violent act that had just occurred. She stood, breaking her rifle down into pieces and stuffed them into the bag. She swung the bag over her shoulder and stalked over to the man who was listlessly following her movements with his eyes.

She crouched down to his level and her eyes flickered between his. Her green eyes narrowed as she searched for something in his terrified ones. Her gaze glanced on to the drying blood on his temple for a moment before she rested back on her haunches and then she smiled. The kind of smile that, from a distance, would seem warm and almost affectionate with a hint of an invitation. The kind of smile that, under closer scrutiny, more closely resembled that of a predator. She reached into the back waistband of her jeans and pulled out a pistol with a silencer. She cocked it and aimed it between his eyes. “But do you want to know the real secret? That thing that I’ve never told anyone else? These games that I have to play? The hands that no-one else can handle? That no-one else can play and then live with themselves afterwards? I expected to feel shame and disgust. That my new circumstances would make me see the horrors of my actions for what they are. But instead?” She cocked her head and took in his crumpled, sweaty, pale frame. She stood, keeping the gun trained on him. “I miss it, the cold disassociation. I miss being that person. That person that everyone feared they may become? I wore that skin like armour, with pride. And now there’s only one thing that I fear.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That I can never go back. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

She squeezed the trigger and buried the bullet between his eyes. She tucked the gun back into her jeans and bent down to pull a knife from her boot. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head forward to show the bullet embedded in the wall. She used the tip of her knife to expertly dig it out. She wiped the blood on to his shirt and pocketed it. She turned to pick up the shell casing from the floor and then stood. She cast one last look around the room before leaving swiftly and silently.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on some one-shots that I want to add to this 'verse before I start work on the sequel.  
> So if there's anything from the story that you want to see fleshed out into a one-shot, please drop a comment and let me know.
> 
> As usual, if you have any questions, comments, or queries, hit me up.


End file.
